


Kindred Spirit

by Schijt (Modernise)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Hay piles, Kissing, Leap of Faith, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modernise/pseuds/Schijt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr has trouble explaining Malik's significance. Malik just wonders how the hell somebody as mature and responsible as yours truly got himself involved in Altaïr's bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phones notepad/ memo app. Maybe that's why Altaïr's diction is rather... abnormal. And maybe that's why this fic's plot is so original *Hint, hint: sarcasm*  
> Either way, I hope it's not too bad!  
>  _Written first-person, as Malik... I suck at first-person_

"I dunno, brother. This seems like a pretty bad idea," I murmured.

The other one snickered.

"Why d'ya always wanna ruin the fun? You sound like an adult, y'know,"

I simply glared. Was I really the only mature one around here? Here we were, standing on a cliff that was at least ten stories high, about to jump into some pile of hay that seemed a billion miled under us.

I shivered. I didn't really want to admit it, but standing on a cliff this high kind of freaked me out a bit. Well, scratch that. It freaked me out a lot, but if he knew that I'd never hear the end of him.

I realised that my thoughts had consumed me, as I had been standing there silent and expressionless for about four minutes.

"Hello are you alive? Earth to Malik," he said while flapping his arms in front of my face like some deranged penguin that he was.

"Altaïr. Stop it you novice," I grumbled as I shoved him aside, not caring about the fact that we were far from the ground, and one tiny mistake would reduce him to pulp.

"Whoa! Calm down before you send me to my doom!" Altaïr laughed.

I just scowled back. Why did he always have such stupid ideas? Why did I always take him seriously? Oh, right, because this novice is my best friend.

"Well? You going or not?" Altaïr asked. "'Cause I don't have all day,"

I peered down. It seemed so far away. Why did he even want to do this? Next thing I know he's dead just because of one miscalculation.

Stupid novice.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this," I repeated, as if that would make him change his mind.

"Alright, mother, thanks for reminding me for the billionth time," he retorted, dripping with sarcasm.

After five minutes of glaring at each other I finally murmured, "Fine, since we're eventually gonna do it," Altaïr's face lit up.

"Are you sure?" he teased.

"Shut up before I change my mind," I grumbled. 

Altaïr took a deep breath. He braced himself, and leaped off. I watched as the breeze embraced him like an old friend, tousling his sandy chestnut hair. He looked like his namesake. Soaring like an eagle, he probably would have morphed into an eagle and begun flying, had it not been for the killjoy gravity, so graceful did he execute his leap. He was a natural.

Eventually, I heard a  _plop_.

He had landed in the hay.

My turn.

 

* * *

 

I tensed for a moment. Things could go horribly wrong. What if I lost a limb in the process?

I shook my head.

I had already made up my mind.

I was going to do this. I took a deep breath, and I lunged off of the cliff.

I could feel the wind ripping through my hair, cooler than water on a wintry day. It felt better than anything I had ever experienced... well, not that I had experienced much. Regardless, that brief moment was short-lived. I felt needles of hay pierce into my skin like a pair of knives. It didn't injure me, yet it was terribly uncomfortable. It made my skin itch.

A cheery voice suddenly filled my ears, "Let's do that again!"

May the Lord give me enough strength to endure this idiot novice and his nonsense.

"Again?" I grumbled a bit too harshly.

Clearly my prayers were not answered.

Altaïr pursed his lips and added, "Yeah, why not,"

"Why not? Because one Leap of Faith is one too many!"

I did not want to think of the punishments that we would be forced to endure if we were caught.

As if he could read my mind, he stated, "Yeah, but those rules only apply to weak, inexperienced trainees. We're both much better than them," Altaïr paused for a moment and bit his lower lip thoughtfully. He then added, "We're the best, you and I," his eyes widened and he gawked at me, as if he was expecting something from me.

"What?" I inquired intelligently.

"We'll both be Master Assassin's. You and I. We'll travel all over and spread the ways of the Order. Novice's will look up to us. We'll be the best. Just us. Together we will be unstoppable," he chattered. "Al-," that didn't stop him. He continued on, "Look at it, you're the most skilled there ever was when it comes to swordsmanship, wielding throwing knives, researching, and mapping. Even better than I. But I am the best in staying hidden, air assassinating, stealth, offensive and defensive tactics, and more. If we merge out strengths as one we'll be invincible!" Truthfully, I couldn't repress a grin.

His words were true, even if he was getting a bit too boastful.

We could've been the best Assassin's in the entire Order, hell, maybe even the entire world.

But then reality slapped me in the face and I was reminded, or rather, I reminded myself, that I was only sixteen soon-to-be seventeen.

"Don't be so full of yourself," I told him.

He pouted his face a bit and replied, "I only speak the truth, brother," I simply sighed at his response.

Well, I suppose that some of his utterances were accurate. Scratch that, it was all true.

**We _were_  the best.**

But still, I knew that it would be better for us all to not jump into things. There is a fine line dividing decision-making and performing Leaps of Faith. One does not simply dive into decisions without thoroughly thinking it out and thinking of the consequences, unless you are asking for a one-way pass to trouble. Damn, this was  _so_  not an Altaïr thing to do.

He would never do that. He would never think beforehand.

He would never listen. He would never heed one benevolent piece of advice.  _Not one._

Fucking novice.

"Come on. Just one more time, comrade," he whined.

Comrade? Who the hell called their brother a comrade? Such a foreign word.

Altaïr noticed the obvious look of perplexion on my face, and he quickly added, "A comrade is a fellow soldier. Almost like a brother, but more of a partner,"

"I know what comrade means, novice. Just don't call me that. I'm not your fucking sidekick," I observed the ghost of a grin playing on his lips.

"Ah, I suppose you're right. You're much more than a sidekick. Or a comrade. Or a friend. Or even a brother," he softly claimed.

This conversation between us was... where was this headed? Yet I was curious, what was I if I was not even a brother to my closest companion since childhood? We might as well have been siblings, as I had known him for such a long time.

"What am I, then," I managed to utter. I hesitated for a moment, thinking my words over. "What am I... to you," I repeated.

"Kindred soul," he murmured. I felt his extremities combing through my disheveled hair. "One half. We are one,"

I found myself flummoxed. First off, how long had we been laying in that damned haystack? More importantly, how long had I been sprawled on top my closest friend, our limbs a tangled mess, my head on his chest? Why were there foreign fingers in my hair, those same foreign fingers belonging to such a familiar lad? How long had they been grooming my hair? Yet apart from all that, one thing frustrated me to no end. Why did Altaïr never make any sense?

Once again, Altaïr noticed my befuddlement and explained, "We're one piece," one of his hands exited out of my hair. Surprisingly, I sort of missed its presence. However, that same exact hand navigated its way toward my right hand. His fingers interlocked with mine, and he held my hand, squeezing it occassionally. "See how our hands fit together? As one. That is us. We correspond. Matching puzzles,"

Was it strange that this... this moment between us felt completely natural? Did that make me an oddity? And how come his words made sense? How come he was actually speaking with his head? How come he was speaking the truth?

I found myself unable to disagree. I shut my eyes and absorbed the environment. I stayed placid, not uttering a word. The tranquility soothed me. I found myself wishing, no, _praying_ , that this moment would be infinite. That time would freeze, so I could live in this moment eternally. Why can't good things last forever?

Altaïr squeezed my hand.

 _Novice_.

He then whispered something unintellible.

"What was that?" I asked, my eyes still shut.

"I," Altaïr muttered, clearly hesitant. "I'm quite fond of you,"

I opened my eyes. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I didn't have enough time to collect my thoughts, as his lips had found their way to mine, hands cupping my cheeks whilst tracing patterns over my skin. This moment was rather brief, and within seconds he had retreated like a discouraged warrior. I silently mourned at the loss of warmth my lips had lost.

"I've been wanting to do that for some time," he stated rather bluntly. I couldn't find myself agreeing more with his statement.

I mustered enough strength to say two words. "Me too,"

The edges of his lips curved upwards, and he made no effort to hide his manifest satisfaction and relief. Maybe he didn't expect any reciprocating feelings. To be honest, I hadn't either. My instructor's immediately suddenly echoed through my head.

 _Nothing is true, Everything is permitted._  

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the terrible ending. I don't really write smut or slash, either, which is why this fic is so clean. s:


End file.
